


Atrophied

by killmycreed



Category: Black Sails
Genre: ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN, Amputation, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt, First Kiss, Flint has such a kink for Silver's hair, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Self-Destruction, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, brief description of medical procedures, sort of, spoilers up to 302, though there is some divergence from canon, well as happy as those two can be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5877175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killmycreed/pseuds/killmycreed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silver knew he should have listened. Rested more. Used the crutches. Instead he just continued to ignore all the warnings. His leg festered and there was no one else to blame for it but him.</p><p>Or the one where Silver ignores his infected wound and collapses on deck and Flint has a lot of feelings while caring for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of me procrastinating my exams, rewatching all the episodes 287245687 times and wishing Silver and Flint would finally kiss/fuck/resolve their anger issues. (I have such high hopes for season 3 and 4 tbh.)
> 
> This chapter is purely Silver angst and hurt since I'm apparently a horrible person who likes to torture characters. It's probably also a bit of a character study but Silver's definitely not a happy bunny in this chapter. 
> 
> Trigger warnings are pretty much the same as the show, but go to the end of the fic for more details.
> 
> Also english is my 3rd language, please excuse any minor mistakes.

Pain.

 

Everything was pain. 

 

He would have never imagined that simply existing could cause so much pain. He couldn’t lie in his bed without pain. He couldn’t stand without being in pain. And he couldn’t walk without feeling so much pain it was bringing tears to his eyes. Not that he would ever show it.

 

It’s been barely a couple of months yet it felt like an eternity. He couldn’t even remember how it felt to be without the never-ending agony of his missing leg. Incredible how his brain had the ability to forget such a thing.

 

_It will heal. Soon you will feel no pain and everything will be as it was before._

 

Except it would never be. Because his fucking leg was gone! Forever. Sometimes he could still feel the burning pain of the saw grinding through bone and flesh, hear the crunching sounds, smell the blood that left his body with every stroke. There would be no as it was before. Not for him. Never.

 

He wanted to cry. And scream. And maybe even hurt someone. Anything to express his feelings. What he did instead was staying silent. 

 

No one cared about his feelings. People never did before and surely they wouldn’t start now. He just had to suck it up like a man. After all he didn’t want to loose his job as a quartermaster as soon as he acquired it. That would have been a shame.

 

Sometimes he thinks he should have never set foot on this pirate ship. Maybe his life would have been easier. Or maybe he would have been dead by now. Though that would count as being easier as well he assumed. After all he wouldn’t have to worry about being in agony because his leg was gone. 

 

Still he valued being alive. Probably too much. Or too little. After all he could have gotten out of this situation pretty easily. But of course he had to refuse a perfectly good deal and end up mutilated. So much about having luck. Or common sense.

 

In the end caring too much was his ruin. Which was ironic considering the fact that he only cared about himself his entire life. Until he became a pirate. And somehow started caring about a crew. And their captain. A captain who would never trust him nor care about him.

 

He was used to getting what he wanted. Once you knew the trick it was pretty easy to get under the skin of other people and take what you want. It’s been a skill he was always proud of. Until he met Captain Flint. Captain Flint who got under _his_ skin and was immune to his attempts to charm him.

 

It was even worse to admit how much he wanted him. How his need grew bigger with every day. And how hard he tried to hide it. He couldn’t even tell when it began. Though it was probable it was the moment a hard body pressed him into the cliffs and a low voice threatened to kill him right there.

 

Oh how much he cared. He saved him from drowning, helped him to take over his ship and become captain again only to betray him again. It was probably his guilt about selling out the location of the gold that drove him to the decision that cost him his leg in the end.

 

A long line of stupid decisions and all for a man who would never look at him with anything but annoyance. Or so he thought.

 

It was quite a surprise to wake up in a bed. At least when you spend most of your time on a ship. With no beds. Except for the Captains cabin. But he was in a bed. In conclusion that would mean he was in Flint’s cabin and that thought was ridiculous. He would have laughed if he wasn’t in so much pain. But no, there was absolutely no reason why he would be in Flint’s cabin. Except when he opened his eyes and realized he was pretty much in said cabin.

 

It was a confusing dream. It had to be. There was no universe where Captain Flint would watch over him and give him water while looking at him with tender eyes. It had to be a confusing dream. There was no other explanation.

 

There was no way Flint cared. Yet apparently he did. At least a little bit. Since it was evident that he watched over him in those days his body was ravaged by fever. He had no idea why but that evidence of caring about him rendered him even more confused. Could he dare to hope? Probably not.

 

Flint was turning into the monster he wanted everyone to believe he was. And it was his job to help him. He needed to convince the crew that what they were doing was good for them. It was a hard job, got harder every day and he was the only one who could do it.

 

It was madness. Flint was lost in a vortex heading steadily towards insanity and like the fool he was he was following him right into it, dragging the whole crew with them into hell.

 

They could not continue like this. This was insanity. A delusion that was going to kill all of them sooner or later. And he feared he was the only one who had the ability and responsibility to stop it. At least that’s what he hoped.

 

Every time Flint went out to kill people fear tightened his chest, made it hard to breathe. Oh why did he have to care so much? It would have been easier if he could have joined the raids but he was bound to the ship. Without a leg he was more a nuisance than help. Rationally it made sense, personally it bothered him. Probably way too much.

 

Flint was reckless. He was worried. The never ending circle. And so far all his attempts to drill some reason into Flint’s head didn’t work. He tried his best to hide his worry for his life in sentences about him being too valuable for the greater cost of this operation. but Flint didn’t care. He never did.

 

At least he didn’t scream at him anymore. Or threatened to kill him. That was an upgrade from the pre legless time. He should feel happy about it. Yet he didn’t. Weird world. But the apathetic Flint scared him more than his anger ever did.

 

Between Flint and the crew and the ship there was no time for him to relax. He was up sooner than was probably good for him, ignored the protests of the doctor. Flint wanted to start his raids as quickly as possible after his anger left Charlestown in ruins and what kind of quartermaster was he if he would not help his captain.

 

Every morning he forced what was left of his leg into the boot, swallowing down any sounds of pain. He truly missed the comforts of Flint’s cabin but it was obvious this situation was only temporary and he would have to leave as soon as he was able to stand up again. Well standing was relative. He needed help. People, crutches or whatever else he could hold on to.

 

He never felt more pathetic in his life. Not even being able to stand or move without help was worse than he ever thought it would be. Not that he thought a lot about it before. 

 

A little boy once swore to himself never to be depended on others. That little boy was gone now. The promise was still standing though. He would not depend on his crew. He would not show weakness. Never.

 

Walking with the boot was a struggle. It put too much pressure on a wound way too fresh. It was bound to end up badly and he knew it. Yet he choose deliberately to ignore it. Oh how easy it was to ignore the nagging little voice in the back of his head when there was so much other stuff he had to think about.

 

The pain got worse. The wound started to fester instead of healing. And it was all his fault. He should have listened. Rested more. Used the crutches. Instead he just continued to ignore all the warnings. It was his own fault. There was no one else to blame but him.

 

At least no one else noticed how much his health was declining but maybe it was just another testament of how little people cared about him. He expected the crew not to notice. They were simple men and what was the health of their quartermaster to them. Nothing. He was replaceable. If he died they would just vote a new one.

 

Not even Flint noticed even though he spend most of his time with him. So many hours next to each other and he didn’t see how much he was forcing himself not to make sounds of pain. How he had to lean against every available surface close to him because he didn’t trust his legs to keep him up. 

 

Maybe he was a fool for wishing Flint would notice anything about him. But the blissful ignorance of his captain had it’s good sides too. How else would he explain the way he was looking at him when being caught. How he couldn’t stop staring at his lips while he was talking, wishing to feel them on his skin. How he wished those strong arms to hold him. And how he wished to be breathless from his kisses instead of the pain.

 

Maybe it was not Flint who was spiraling towards insanity but he was. There was no other explanation. He wanted something he could never have. And in the end it would be just another secret he would take to his grave. He just had to make sure no one noticed.

 

Getting up in the morning seemed to become more difficult than easier. Which was weird. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way round? He couldn’t remember. Everything seemed so fuzzy. As if he’d drunk to much when in reality he couldn’t even recall the last time a drop of alcohol had hit his lips.

 

It was a struggle. Maybe he should have taken it as a sign of his body that he needed rest. But there was no time to rest. There never was. There were raids, attacks on other ships or storms. He couldn’t think of when they last hit land. 

 

He was supposed to help his crew and captain. That was his job. Yet he was struggling not to fall overboard as the storm hit the ship. He tried his best and yet he failed. It was just his luck that no one noticed since they were so busy.

 

He tried to be helpful. He tried oh so hard. Even a cripple like he was should have been able to stuff the holes in the ship’s hull. And yet he failed. Again. Only this time the price for his failure would be a lot higher.

 

He could ignore his own pain. He’d been doing this for months. The water rose. It was getting more and more difficult to move. He slipped, felt the burning pain in his leg, tried to ignore the dizziness. 

 

The canon moved. Muldoon got trapped. The water rose.

 

He tried to be helpful. He tried to move the canon. He tried to free his mate. He failed. He screamed. Until he could no more.

 

His throat hurt. The water rose. Soon it would be too late. He tried again. Failed again. Muldoon was trying to comfort him.

 

How pathetic. Here he was. Watching his mate die right in front of his eyes because he was too weak to help him and a dying man had to speak words of comfort to him. He who was standing and watching. He who wanted to be useful to the crew. Well there was the proof his his usefulness. It was looking at him with fear in his eyes while sinking beneath the cold water of the sea.

 

He gripped the hand tightly. He was sobbing. And screaming. There was trashing. And then there was silence.

 

The hand he held was limp and getting cold. His voice was gone. He couldn’t move his gaze from the corpse trapped under the surface of the water. The empty eyes staring right at him, accusing and unforgiving. Silent tears were running down his face. There was no one to witness them. No one to comfort him. The only person who’s comfort he wanted didn’t give a fuck about him.

 

It was not fair. He was the useless cripple. He should have been the one who got trapped and drowned in this hell. He did not deserve it to live.

 

Minutes passed. Hours passed. He did not know. Then there was a noise. He turned around and saw some members of the crew. They finally came. It was too late.

 

They dragged him out of there. He was trembling with the cold. Suddenly he was in the crew’s quarters. He was wearing dry clothes. The storm was slowly passing. He couldn’t recall how any of it happened.

 

It was hot. Suffocating. He couldn’t breathe. The most air inside the ship gripped him tight and squeezed the breath right out of him. He needed to get out. Now.

 

It was pathetic. He was stumbling, holding onto rigs and walls, trying to get out while the ship wasstill trashed by rain and waves even though the worst of the storm was already over.

 

There was a fire burning, right under his skin, growing stronger every minute. He felt as if he was incinerating. And there was no way to make it stop. Unconsciously he ripped at his shirt, tried to open it more, to loosen that feeling of suffocating right at the spot he was standing.

 

Cold drops of rain were hitting his overheated skin, making him shiver instantly. He remembered the storms in this part of the world to be warmer. How paradox. Didn’t he feel like burning right to ash mere minutes ago? How could he feel now as if he was freezing? He couldn’t understand.

 

Someone was next to him. Someone was telling him to go to Flint and tell him something. He couldn’t make out the words. It was all but a cacophony of sounds. But he understood Flint. He needed to get to him. That was a good idea. He would go to him. Now.

 

Slowly. First his existing foot, then the stump. It was not that difficult. Okay maybe it was. The ship was still rocking hard amidst the waves. And somehow his vision was getting blurrier with each passing second. But that was probably just the rain. Or that’s what he told himself.

 

By now his whole body was trebling with cold, yet the burning sensation deep inside his chest was still there. He felt as if he was freezing and burning to death at the same time. Everything was so confusing. But he needed to reach Flint. Just a couple of steps. He could make out his silhouette in the darkness of the storm.

 

„Captain… I… the…“

 

The ship lurched. He lost his footing. There was a weird look of worry in Flint’s blurry face now that he was close enough to recognize it. He stumbled, lost his footing and fell. And then there was darkness.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last piece of James McGraw died the moment Miranda Hamilton’s lifeless body hit the floor in Peter Ashe’s house. James Flint would die the moment John Silver breathed his last breath. That much was certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait. Exams and some personal issues are really killers to productivity. Also this whole thing turned out to be way longer than I originally planned thus I split the original chapter 2 into two parts to make you not wait any longer.
> 
> This chapter holds the promised Flint angst. Flint's head is a very messy and confused place. There are a lot of feelings and some realiziations. 
> 
> For trigger warnings check the updated tags and the notes at the end of the chapter. Though as I sad before if you can manage it to watch the show you should be fine to read this.

Desolation.

 

He always asked himself what would be left once the anger was gone. Desolation was the answer. An aching emptiness in his chest. Tearing a hole into the place where his heart once had been. Turning him into the monster he once swore to himself he would never become.

 

He was a demon. The horror of the new world. It was remarkable. Simply the mention of his name caused fear to be seen in people’s faces. And even more dread was visible when he stood in person in front of them. Meeting him meant certain death. He made sure that everyone knew it.

 

A transformation that started the day he left the admirals office in London more than ten years ago and got completed the day he turned Charlestown into a fiery hell of dust and ruins. From highly decorated Navy Lieutenant to the most terrifying pirate in the new world.

 

He lost everything. His title. His life. His love. His only friend and ally. Now it was time to make England pay for all the pain he had to endure.

 

How could he have been so naive? Did he really thought it was possible to reason with Ashe and therefore England? How could he have ever considered him to be his friend? How could he not have seen the betrayal right in front of his eyes? He was so stupid.

 

The only people he could trust were Thomas and Miranda. Such a pity they were both dead. And the single person he could blame for it was himself. It was his fault. His own naiveté killed them. He would never forgive himself for making the same mistake a decade later. Did he not learn anything from the first time?

 

He should have refused Miranda. Should have left her back in Nassau where she was safe. Such stupidity. He promised Thomas. He promised he would protect his wife. Protect her where he failed to protect him. What he did instead was leading her right to her executioner.

 

He spend a decade planning and trying to fulfill Thomas’ dream. He was ready to give up everything he fought so hard for in all those years. His ship. His crew. His dignity. Only to be betrayed again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

 

In retrospect there was a dreadful logic behind everything. Someone from their inner circle of trusted people would have been the one who betrayed them in London. And Peter Ashe was very close to them. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place as Miranda started screaming at Ashe. He should have stopped her. Calmed her down. He sensed the danger. 

 

Bang. He was too late.

 

First there was screaming. Then a shot. And then there was silence. 

 

Empty, dead eyes looking at him accusingly. Dark red blood seeping on the carpet. Miranda was gone. There was nothing left but anger.

 

She wanted to see Charlestown burn. She wanted them dead. All of them. Who was he to refuse her last wish? Especially since he was the one who dragged her to the scaffold.

 

He never expected it to feel such a satisfaction when he stabbed his sword through Peter’s body. Deep and hard yet not immediately deadly. He would not give Ashe the mercy of an easy dead. He needed to suffer. Like Thomas did. Like Miranda did. And like he did. Peter Ashe would see his city burn. The flames consuming Charlestown would be the last thing he would see. Simply the thought of it gave him comfort.

 

Anger burned through his body as he entered his warship. Anger gripped his mind as he ordered to fire until the city was nothing but burning ruins. And he kept on watching until the sound of cannons was the only thing he heard and the fire consuming Charlestown was everything he saw.

 

Yet he never expected it to feel so empty when it was done and they were on their trip back to Nassau. The anger was dissolving into thin air as if it never existed. The desolation began.

 

He was led into the ship. Someone was telling him they voted a new quartermaster. It was Silver. He was surprised. Then shocked.

 

What he saw was nauseating. Silver was lying on a table, covered in dirt, blood and sweat. Next to him was Howell, holding his severed leg in his hands.

 

It was not the first time he witnessed an amputation. He’d even done it himself with Randall. What was different now that he felt sick at the sight of it? It was so very confusing.

 

He demanded answers and got them. It was only their luck that the men who did this were already dead since he could feel the anger burning again. He would have killed them happily. Too bad the job was already done.

 

He ordered them to bring Silver into his cabin once Howell was done. Maybe it was weird that a captain wanted to care for his quartermaster himself but it made it easier for him to find a distraction. When he was busy he did not have to think about Thomas or Miranda or Ashe.

 

He didn’t mind caring for Silver. In fact he welcomed the ability to do something that was not resulting in death or destruction. And after all it was only in his best interest to get him up as soon as possible. The crew needed a quartermaster. He needed a quartermaster. 

 

It was surprising. Of all the men he always thought Silver would be the first to betray the crew and him at any given possibility. After all he was only after the gold and never cared about being a pirate. What happened to change his mind that he would even endure torture before giving up the crew? The gold was gone, he could have left. Yet he stayed. Risked everything. And lost so much. 

 

He was rarely confused in his life. Then he met John Silver. Who's behavior had been confusing from day one. He betrayed him. Then stayed by his side. Only to betray him again. The never-ending circle. He knew he should not trust him. But yet in the end Silver turned out to be most loyal to him. How odd.

 

To be honest he didn’t understand this behavior and his life would have been easier if Silver never crossed his path. He annoyed him more than he was useful and sometimes he asked himself why he didn’t kill him yet. Then he saved his life. He knew very well that if it wasn’t for Silver he’d be long dead already. He helped him to conquer a Spanish warship and regain his position as Captain. Silver manipulated his men the way he wanted, made them work for his plans and even support them. His position as their Captain grew stronger again. And suddenly he was even thankful for Silver’s existence on his ship. Funny how quickly things could change.

 

Silver healed and left his cabin. The nightmares began. He refused to see the correlation.

 

First it was Miranda. Beautiful Miranda with a hole in her forehead and blood dripping on the fine silk of her dress. She was silent. She was screaming. She looked sad. She looked accusingly. She was everywhere. In his dreams. In the face of the people he was about to kill. She was gone.

 

Insanity had gripped him tightly. He tried to ignore it. Forced himself to feel anger instead. The raids where helpful. He went out, killed people, left a path of destruction wherever he went. Miranda was dead. They had to pay.

 

He got reckless. It didn’t matter. The war he started would continue. Even if he was dead. Silver tried to reason. He didn’t care.

 

When did Silver become so good at getting into his head? It was irritating. Mostly because he was right. Not that he would ever confess to that. Hearing the truth out of his mouth made it even worse.

 

He couldn’t bring himself to scream at Silver anymore. Maybe because he told the truth. Or maybe because he couldn’t stand those blue eyes looking at him with such sadness it made his heart ache.

 

Miranda left. Thomas arrived. Another pair of blue eyes looking sadly at him. Then coldly. Then accusing. 

 

His clothes were torn, his skin badly bruised. He could see the black rope mark on his throat. He reached out, wanted to touch him. Thomas moved away. Then he spoke. And for the first time in ten years he heard his voice again. Broken and full of hatred.

 

_It’s all your fault._

 

Leading his crew into a deadly storm was a bad idea. He could have accepted the pardons. For all of them. But accepting would mean surrendering, Surrendering to England. Begging for forgiveness when instead they should be the ones who begged him for it. He could not allow it. He once swore to himself that all of it would end the day England asked him for forgiveness. He would rather die than accept those pardons.

 

The storm was passing. The ship did not sink. He managed it. It was a miracle. For hours he stood alone on deck, trying to steer through the waves that came crashing down from every side. He was exhausted. Then it came to an end. It was still raining. There ship was still rocking in the waves but they made it. The worst was over. The end of the storm was near.

 

He prepared to retreat when he saw Silver staggering towards him. His footing seemed unsure as if he was fighting to keep balance with each step. His eyes were glazed and unfocused. Silver tried to tell him something but the ship lurched, he lost his balance and fell right into him.

 

The body in his arms was shivering, yet emitting so much heat it worried him. Silver was barely conscious and he was surprised by the fear that clenched his heart in an iron grip.

 

„Get Howell to my cabin!“ he screamed at the nearest member of his crew while he carried Silver out of the rain. 

 

He must have lost weight he mused. Because the body in his arms was far too light to belong to a grown man let alone a pirate who was used to heavy physical work. He placed him carefully on his writing desk as the doctor barged in and blanched at the state the quartermaster was in.

 

„Damn. I told him it would end up badly..“ he murmured.

 

„Told him what?“

 

„His leg. Help me remove the boot.“

 

He raised a brow at the ordering tone of the doctor but arguing would be neither useful for him nor for Silver’s life and he complied. Taking the boot of was a struggle since the flesh was swollen and he could see how the edge of the leather cut deeply into the leg. But nothing could have prepared him for sight that awaited him when the stump of Silver’s leg was finally bared to them.

 

He had seen a lot of disgusting things in his life. He had seen messy killings, bloated corpses and more than one severed limb. Yet the sight of what was left of Silver’s leg had him nearly retching.

 

It was a mess. It looked a lot worse than it had after the leg was initially removed. What was left of the leg was swollen, bloody and clearly infected. Pus and blood seeped out of the stump and gave the long festering wound a slightly rotten smell.

 

„How could you let this happen?“ 

 

Howell flinched at his anger. He couldn’t tell why he reacted to strongly. The anger just appeared. Right when he almost got used to feeling nothing but emptiness.

 

„I told him not to wear the boot for long periods of time. I told him to rest more and use the crutches. And I told him to clean it properly every day. He didn’t listen.“

 

„Will he survive?“ he did not like the fear that was heard in his voice as he uttered the question.

 

„Only if I remove the infected part of his leg. I warned him this would happen. Now I have no other choice but to cut off more.“ the doctor sighed as he went to get the saw. „You will have to hold him down. He might be feverish and barely conscious but that doesn’t mean he won’t trash around.“

 

He took a pice of cloth and slowly wedged it between Silvers teeth. He was still shivering violently but there was no sense in dressing him into dry clothes when they would be ruined by blood anyway as soon as Howell started the surgery.

 

Taking hold of Silver’s arms he pressed him to the table with all of his weight and waited for the inevitable to begin. The sound of the saw cutting through flesh and bone was disgusting. He tried to look at it but had to avert his gaze. He couldn’t tell where this weakness came from but it bothered him to see Silver suffering like this.

 

Below him Silver was moaning weakly and trying to move away. But his hold was strong. It had to be. If he managed it to hold his quartermaster as still as possible the doctor could work faster and the whole procedure would be over sooner. But even is his feverish haze Silver felt the pain and while he didn’t have the strength to scream there were hot tears streaming down his face clearly showing the anguish he was feeling in this moment. 

 

Howell tried to work as fast as he could, cutting and burning away the infection. By the time he was done Silver had long lost consciousness. He was exhausted from holding him down and was glad when the doctor finally announced that he was finished. With his help he cleaned Silver from the dirt, sweat and blood and dressed him in clean clothes before moving him to his own bed.

 

The whole scenery reminded him of what happened just months ago, though the situation now was entirely more critical.

 

„Should he make it through the night and the fever breaks soon he will survive. But I cannot guarantee that the infection did not spread already too much. And as you very well know his body is in a more weakened state that it was the last time. In the end it depends on him. There is not much you and I can do for him except for cleaning the wound and trying to bring the fever down. I’m sorry Captain.“ Howell spoke as he left the room and left him alone.

 

Even though he was dressed in dry clothes Silver was still shivering violently. Looking for his warmest blanket he draped it over him, making sure he wasn’t freezing anymore. Feeling his own exhaustion he dragged his chair next to the bed his quartermaster was resting in and collapsed into it. Suddenly he felt so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He knew he needed to keep watch but surely a few moments of rest wouldn’t hurt.

 

Thomas returned. He was standing in his cabin. Looking at him. Looking at the unconscious figure in his bed. It was dark. He couldn’t see the features of his face. Or had he forgotten them? Was he damned to remember his old love as a faceless creature tormenting him in his nightmares? How long would his voice haunt him?

 

_Know no shame._

 

Yet shame was exactly what he felt in this moment. Shame for not being able to save Thomas. Shame for failing to protect and save Miranda. Shame of the monster he had become. Shame for risking his crew’s lives unnecessary. Shame for not noticing how much his quartermaster suffered. Shame for wanting to kiss Silver. Shame for wanting to fuck him when he didn't have this urges for over a decade.

 

Shame. Shame. Shame.

 

No one knew shame better than he did. He might not be ashamed for having loved a man. He never was. But there were more than enough other shameful things he did. Wanting Silver was one of them.

 

How could he betray Thomas like that? How could he want another man in the way he only wanted him before. How could he let this happen? Why didn’t he stop it before it got too late? He should feel disgusted. The most shameful thing was probably that despite everything he didn’t.

 

Wanting Silver was easy he supposed. He was pretty. Bright blue eyes and a mop of dark curls that was just made for pulling on them. Oh how he wanted to bury his hands in that hair. It was way too tempting. 

 

He was too preoccupied with other things to notice it before. And now it was to late. How could he have known he would show interest in another man? Not after Thomas. He always thought Thomas would be the only one. But there was no sense in denying it. In the end there was a dreadful sense behind it.

 

He wanted Silver. Even though his mind had done his best to ignore it. It was easier to hate him. It was easier to be annoyed at his presence. It was easier not to trust him. It was easier to scream at him. It was easier when he still thought Silver would betray him at any given moment and vanish out of his life. Everything was easier than admitting to himself he was wanting another man. A man that was not Thomas. Only that realization came now a bit too late. Considering the fact that Silver would probably not even survive the night.

 

Sighing he got up. There was no sense in trying to sleep. Sleep would only bring more nightmares and not the rest he was hoping for. In his bed Silver was moving around, his rest disturbed by pain and fever. 

 

The feeling of helplessness was unsettling him. He wanted to do something. But there was nothing he could do. Silver had to fight the infection on his own. There was no one he could kill to make it stop. Once again he was damned to stand and watch as another person he cared for suffered.

 

He left his cabin, went to check on his crew. After all he still was their captain. And while the crew was perfectly capable of maintaining the ship without his help he needed to make sure everything was in order. Especially after the storm they just faced.

 

Everything was calm. Just as he expected. There was worry in the faces of his men. He was certain Howell informed them of the second surgery on their quartermaster. No one dared to ask him questions and he was thankful. The last thing he wanted to do was having a talk - or rather discussion with his crew. Instead he grabbed a bowl and filled it with cold fresh water and took it back to his cabin. 

 

Though he was not gone for a long time Silver seemed more restless than before. The fever was taking it’s toll on his already weakened body. He wet a clean cloth and dripped some of the water on Silver’s chapped lips. It would have been better if he was able to rouse him and get him to drink but he doubted it was possible in his fevered state.

 

He wet the cloth again and slowly wiped the sweat from Silver’s brow and face, who moaned quietly at the short relief the cold water brought. Slowly he repeated the process, cooling his face and chest even though the comfort of it seemed to be only temporary. It appeared to him that the fever was rather rising than breaking. 

 

Doomed to be helpless fear tightened his chest. What if Silver wouldn’t make it. What if he died here in his cabin. In his bed. And he lost the only person still alive who was able to understand him. The only person that he wanted. The only person that provoked some kind of feelings in him. And again it would be his fault if he died. Another person he brought to the grave because he was too ignorant. 

 

He should have noticed. Did he not spend hours together with Silver in his cabin? How could he not make sure that he rested enough? Cleaned the wound properly? Hell, he should have done it himself. How stupid. How ignorant.

 

The last piece of James McGraw died the moment Miranda Hamilton’s lifeless body hit the floor in Peter Ashe’s house. James Flint would die the moment John Silver breathed his last breath. That much was certain. There was no chance he could control his crew without him. 

 

In his bed Silver trashed around more violently. He was shivering while hot tears streamed down his face. A touch to his forehead nearly paralyzed him in fear. He was burning hotter. The fever was rising. This was a bad sign. A very bad sign.

 

„No… please… don’t. Please… James… help…“, Silver moaned quietly with such anguish in his voice that it nearly broke his heart to hear it.

 

Carefully he started stroking through the messy curls in an attempt to comfort him while he replaced the cold cloth on his forehead. He tried speaking soft words of comfort but he had no idea if they were helpful. Probably nothing he did was helpful. Such situations were unknown to him and he hated the feeling of uselessness. 

 

Miranda was back. Thomas was back. Both of them standing in his cabin. Watching him. Watching Silver. More blood was dripping from Miranda’s forehead, her face covered in the sticky red liquid. The noose was still hanging around Thomas’ neck. How long until Silver would join them? How long until it was the three of them looking accusingly at him?

 

_It was all your fault. It is your fault. It will be your fault._

 

He wanted to scream. Tell them no. That it was not his fault. He couldn’t. Because deep down he knew they were right. It was his fault Thomas died. It was his fault Miranda died. It would be his fault when Silver died.

 

A broken sob tore itself out of his throat. He fell to his knees. Suddenly he had no strength to hold himself up anymore. His breath hitched while he tried to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. He failed. 

 

„I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…“

 

He didn’t know who he was apologizing to. Thomas? Miranda? Or was it Silver? Probably all three of them.

 

Silent tears were slowly streaming down his face as he was holding onto Silver as if he was his lifeline. He could not look at Thomas and Miranda. His gaze averted in shame. He failed them. He deserved what was coming. He just hoped that Silver would not have to pay the price of his failures as well.

 

Anguish was tightening his chest, making it hard to breathe. He had thought James McGraw had died on that faithful day months ago in Charlestown. He thought Captain Flint was everything that remained of him. He was wrong.

 

Perhaps this was the last desperate try to regain some part of his former self back. A part he thought was long dead and gone.

 

He was tired. Oh so tired. He tried so hard. Wanted to be the monster for the whole new world. He didn’t know for how much longer he could take it. He mind was close to shattering into pieces. How long would it take until he would loose himself fully in his hallucinations and nightmares?

 

Madness had a strong grasp on him, constraining him. He was close to fully succumbing to insanity. Perhaps they should have admitted him to that mental hospital instead of Thomas. He would have switched places gladly. Anything to spare Thomas the pain of this hellhole. He would have given his live willingly if Thomas was allowed to live the rest of his happily. 

 

It was too late. He could not turn back time. Thomas was long gone. Miranda too. It did not ease the pain of seeing their disfigured faces every time he closed his eyes. He prayed that it was not too late for Silver. That he could somehow make up for everything he did wrong.

 

If Silver died he would be truly alone. He tried to ignore it too long. But the only other person who understood him - truly understood him - was Silver. If he wasn’t there who would stop him of fully tumbling into the depths of hysteria? If he was gone his own madness would most likely get him killed. He was certain of it.

 

He was crying. He was begging. He was praying. The pain of desperation was the only thing he felt. He would do anything. As long as not another person he cared for was ripped out of his life. He couldn’t take it anymore. There was no way he could keep up the facade of Captain Flint any longer.

 

Not on his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: brief descriptions of an infected wound and amputation, hallucinations and nightmares and a lot of self hatred. minor character deaths are mentioned. It should not be more disturbing than the canon of the show.
> 
> The next and final chapter will have a little bit of angst and finally those emotionally constipated idiots will have a talk and sort stuff out. And kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was three days later when the fever finally broke completely and John Silver opened his eyes for the first time since he collapsed into Flint's arms after that fateful storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The final chapter of this story where Flint and Silver finally sort everything out and talk after all the angst I put them through. Seriously they have all the conversations in this chapter, because by the time I was writing this I was desperately wanting them both just to sit down and finally have a proper talk with each other.
> 
> This fanfic and especially chapter 3 disregards the complete show canon post episode 3x02, because the other episodes of this season had not aired yet when I wrote and plotted this story. 
> 
> My biggest thanks goes out to my friend Jessi who helped me edit this monster of a chapter even though she's not in the fandom and has no idea about Black Sails. Thank you so much! <3
> 
> Enjoy the last chapter! <3

By the time his tears had dried and the pain in his chest had grown in to a bearable ache dawn was approaching, the light slowly chasing away the darkness of the night. The cabin grew quiet. His own breathing calmed down. Perhaps he should have felt somewhat better. Instead there was only more emptiness.

 

Slowly he tried to rise, his knees protesting in pain. He had not realized how long he was kneeling on the floor next to his bed. The whole night was just a blurry memory in his mind. Maybe that was better anyway.

 

The quietness of the room was surprising. For a moment cold fear made the blood freeze in his veins. What if Silver had died that night? What if he’d breathed his last breath while he was too preoccupied to lament in his own bitter feelings about the past. With dread tightening his chest he looked up.

 

He was afraid. Scared of finding a dead and cold body in his bed. He wasn’t sure if he could take it. Wasn’t sure when he went from feeling nothing to feeling too much. Fortunately the steady rise and fall of Silver’s chest told him that he was still alive and he let out a breath he wasn’t even aware of holding.

 

Carefully he placed the back of his hand on Silver’s forehead. He was still too warm and feverish but it was not the burning overheated skin from last night which relieved him. At least a little bit. The battle was far from over and he knew all too well that things could take a turn for the worse again. But for now it was already enough that Silver made it through the night. He just had to be hopeful that things would turn out in a better favor this time.

 

He stroked his fingers over Silver’s forehead. Slowly, with a careful touch. In an unconscious gesture he gently caressed them down his cheek before his brain caught up with what his hand was doing. Quickly he pulled it away. What was he doing? He didn’t even know if his touch was welcome. Probably it wasn’t. Or was it? He had no idea.

 

Leaving his cabin he called for the doctor and instructed him to have a look at Silver’s wound and condition. If there was someone on this ship who was helpful in this mess of a situation it had to be Howell. And knowing that someone was taking care of Silver made it easier for him to carry out his duties as a captain even if he had a hard time admitting to himself that he worried more about his quartermaster than it was normal.

 

He spent hours on deck, loosing himself fully in his duties as the Captain of the ship. It helped his mind to stay blissfully empty though he couldn’t fully shake off that nagging worry in the back of his head. 

 

By the time he retired to his cabin he was dead tired and the little bit of concern he’d felt before turned into worrying what he might find once he opened the door. He spotted Howell next to Silver and the neutral look on his face told him at least nothing worse had happened in the time he was absent.

 

„How is he?“

 

„Better than yesterday. The wound seems to heal again. But as you know there is still a possibility it gets worse again. Especially since his body is already weakened.“

 

He simply nodded. He realized even before the doctor spoke that this ordeal was far from over. 

 

„Try to get him to drink something and cool his skin to bring the fever down. Unfortunately there is no more you or I can do for him at this point. This is a battle he has to fight on his own.“

 

Howell was right. There was nothing he could do. Except for waiting and hoping for the best. 

 

Methodically he wet Silvers lips, dripping the cold water onto them, hoping his quartermaster would be able to consume at least a little bit of the liquid. He managed it to repeat this process a few times before Silver moaned weakly and tried to turn his head away. Slowly he combed his fingers through his hair, hoping the gesture would calm him while he used the rest of the cold water to wipe the sweat from his face and cool his forehead.

 

He was tired. Yet he dreaded sleep. For he was certain of the nightmares that would haunt him. No. Sleep was not an option. Not for him. He just needed to find another way to keep his mind occupied.

 

For the first time in a long while he walked to his bookshelf and looked at the books he had brought on his ship many years ago. For a man who loved to read he hadn’t touched a book since an eternity. But who could blame him with all that has happened in the last months. There was simply no time for reading.

 

Slowly he let his fingers wander over their weathered leather spines. He had no idea what to choose. He stopped when his fingers reached a book far to the end of the shelf, nearly lost between all the other books he owned. A book he hadn’t touched in a long time. A book he hadn’t read in nearly a decade. Before he could decide against it he pulled it out and retreated to the chair at Silver’s bedside.

 

_Meditations_

 

His fingers almost lovingly caressed those golden letters which were pressed neatly into the red leather. Perhaps this was a bad idea. No he was almost certain this was not a good idea. Reading the book would definitely bring back a lot of memories. Memories of which he did not know if he was ready to face them yet. But he didn’t care. There was a longing inside him to read this book again. And he was not strong enough to ignore it.

 

_James. My truest love. Know no shame._

 

Seven words. Written in neat handwriting on the first page of the book. Seven words that tightened his chest with sadness and threatened to bring tears into his eyes while memories of happier times flooded his mind. Memories where Captain Flint didn’t exist and his life had still a resemblance of happiness.

 

A soft whimper next to him brought him quickly back to reality, reminding him once more that Thomas was long dead. And so was most of James McGraw.

 

„Please.. no… James… please… come back.“

 

Silver was getting restless again. Who knew what nightmares tortured him in his fevered haze. The only thing he could tell was that they were far from pleasant. And seemed to involve him. Or another James Silver had known in his past. It was not like James was a very rare name after all. Maybe he needed to ask him about it when he woke up. To know if it was him who haunted Silver even in his worst nightmares. Still the anguish in his pleading voice nearly broke his heart. 

 

Slowly he brought his free hand back to Silvers hair, tangled his fingers in those long locks and stroked gently through them. He relished the feeling how Silver’s body became pliant under his ministrations. With his other hand he picked up the book and started reading aloud, hoping that the sound of his voice would help Silver realize that he was not alone and bring him some comfort.

 

  

 

It was three days later when the fever finally broke completely and John Silver opened his eyes for the first time since he collapsed into his arms after that fateful storm. At first he did not notice it. He was so tired himself since the little rest he’s gotten was disturbed by more hallucinations and nightmares. Besides he had lost himself fully in the book. Even after a decade the words still managed it to pull him in and made him forget about everything else as he read them quietly to Silver.

 

Ten years ago it was Thomas who read the words to him in a soft voice when there were lying in bed together, naked and happy. A decade that felt more like an eternity blurring his memory with every passing day. He couldn’t remember the sound of Thomas voice anymore. How long until he forgot the look of his face completely? The softness of his skin. How the skin around his eyes had wrinkled when he smiled at him. The love in his eyes. He knew this was bound to happen. Sooner or later. Though that did not mean it was painless.

 

He had thought a lot about Thomas in the past days. How much he missed him and how little time they had together in retrospect. It was odd how fast that little bubble of happiness had burst and vanished into nothing but grief and anguish. Reading the book opened a door to a part of his memories he thought long locked up and lost.

 

What dragged him back into reality was the uncoordinated movement of Silver on his bed. Since his free hand was still idly stroking through his quartermaster’s hair as he read he was bound to feel it. At first he simply thought that Silver was getting restless again. Maybe his sleep was disturbed by various nightmares once more. He kept on caressing him, smoothing out the long strands in a hopefully soothing gesture. For both of them.

 

Instead the wiggling did not stop. A weak moan made him put the book aside as he turned his head to see what disturbed his quartermaster’s rest. What he did not expect was to see two open eyes looking at him. Silver’s gaze was still unfocused but he was conscious and this fact alone was enough to make him feel incredible relieved.

 

„Welcome back.“ he smiled softly at him.

 

„I.. what..“ A dry cough interrupted Silver in whatever he wanted to say.

 

He grabbed the cup of water that was standing next to the bed and offered it to his quartermaster. Silver tried to take it but his grip was weak and slipped. Carefully he moved the hand that was still tangled in Silver’s hair to the back of his head and helped him raise it enough so he could drink without trouble. 

 

After he took some sips he carefully placed the cup back on the small table and helped him lie back. Even such a small movement brought Silver back to the brink of ultimate exhaustion as he collapsed breathing heavily against the pillows.

 

„What… happened?“ he asked weakly.

 

„You don’t remember?“

 

„I… I don’t know. I remember the storm. I remember… wanting to tell you something… or the crew wanted… I’m not sure. I… I was on deck. I don’t know.“ Silver tried so hard to remember, yet the memories were blurred.

 

„You collapsed on deck with a high fever. It was your leg. The wound was infected very badlyand Howell had to remove more of your leg.“

 

Silver’s eyes widened at his confession. Panicked he struggled to get up again to look at what was left of his leg until he pressed a warm hand against his chest and pushed him back onto the bed.

 

„Calm down. He took as little as possible but we could not risk the infection continuing to spread through your body. You would have died John. You were pretty close to dying.“

 

„I…“

 

Probably for the first time since he knew him he saw Silver being utterly speechless. There was no witty comment or any other kind of remark. Only realization in his eyes as he probably finally understood how serious the whole situation had been.

 

„Howell said he warned you. Told you to clean the leg properly. And to not use the boot too much. Why didn’t you listen?“ 

 

Perhaps his voice was more harsh than needed. Perhaps he just cared too much.

 

„I.. I couldn’t.“ 

 

He watched how Silver averted his gaze in what was probably shame.

 

„You could have asked for help.“

 

„Didn’t think y-… anyone would care.“

 

„You and I both know that the crew cares very much about you.“

 

„You and I also know that it’s not in our shared interest if I look weak in front of the crew. I can’t get this men do to what they need to do if they see a weak man in front of them who can’t even stand properly on his own.“

 

„You could have told me.“ His voice was quiet and he had a hard time hiding how much how much he was hurting that Silver still had no trust in him.

 

„As if you would have cared about it.“ There was a bitterness in Silver’s voice which was unusual for the other man and he nearly flinched at the pain that laced his voice.

 

„If I did not care why do you think I should have let you rest in my cabin again. Who do you imagine it was who tended to you while your body was ravaged by fever again?“

 

„But… Howell?“

 

„Howell did nothing more than stitch up your leg and made sure the infection did not spread. Do you really think I would have tended to you, again, if I did not care? Do you think I would have stayed awake to make sure you would not die of fever if I did not care? Who do you think wiped the sweat from your brow and made sure you drank water? Don’t you dare to tell me I don’t care about you! If anything I care too much.“

 

The cabin was completely silent. The only sound that could be heard was Silver’s heavy breathing. He could feel the movements of his heaving chest underneath his hand. Perhaps he should remove his hand. After all there was no reason for him to keep it there anymore. Still he couldn’t bring himself to take it away.

 

„Why are you doing this to me?“

 

The sadness in Silver’s voice nearly broke his heart. He looked so small laying in his bed. So vulnerable. But what scared him most was the emptiness in his eyes.

 

„Doing what?“ He was confused, questioning himself what he could have done to cause Silver to feel such pain.

 

„Torturing me like this.“

 

„John…“

 

„I’m not stupid! You don’t care. No one does. No one ever did! Why are you so cruel to taunt me with things I can never have? Do you want to gloat over my pain? I accepted my worth. I accepted my place. Why do you deem it necessary to give me hope for something that would never be mine?“

 

He could see the anguish in Silver’s face as he spoke. He could almost feel the pain that threatened to break him. Maybe because he knew that kind of suffering all too well.

 

Silver accused him of giving him hope where there was no hope. Or at least that’s what he thought.Maybe Silver did not feel any hope. But he did. He was unsure of taking the first step, still fearing he would not be welcome. Yet there was no other way to end the anguish Silver was feeling. And maybe even to relieve his own pain.

 

He carefully moved the hand that was still resting on Silver’s chest. Dragged it across the soft skin up to his neck. He could feel his pulse fluttering underneath his fingertips. Fast and heavy. Then he cupped Silver’s cheek. His thumb stroking slowly over his lower lip. There was confusion in Silver’s eyes. And a tiny flicker of hope. Then he gave in to what he’d wanted to do for a long while and leaned down, touching his lips to Silver’s for the first time in a soft kiss.

 

He could feel Silver gasp softly against his lips. Then stiffen. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his touch was not as welcome as he’d thought. His heart clenched in fear of having ruined everything and he was just about to pull back as he felt Silver kissing him back and a hand weakly clutching at his shirt, trying to hold him in place.

 

Slowly he moved the hand that was still resting on Silver’s cheek back into his hair, tangled his fingers in it and used the leverage to deepen the kiss. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to kiss another person. God it has been way too long. He already loved the way Silver responded to him, how he eagerly opened his mouth and welcomed his tongue inside, the way his hand rested on his chest in a burning touch.

 

He tried to keep his kisses as gentle as possible, still mindful of the weakened state of Silver’s body. Yet he could feel his body react. A searing fire inside him that wanted more. But not yet. Now was not the time. 

 

Breaking the kiss when he felt the air run out he rested his forehead against Silver’s, their harsh breaths mingling as he forced himself to open his eyes. Silver looked utterly wrecked, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath. Perhaps he should have been gentler. He should have kept his own needs better under control. But how could he have known what a simple kiss would do to him.

 

„Stop… thinking.“ Silver panted and he startled, asking himself what he could mean.

 

„Beg your pardon?“

 

„Don’t you dare to tell me this was a mistake. Don’t you dare to tell me you regret this. Please.“

 

He could hear the insecurity in Silver’s voice, how he couldn’t even meet his eyes in fear that he might tell him he regretted what he’d done.

 

„I don’t regret it.“

 

He could feel the tension leaving Silver’s body and pressed another quick kiss to his lips.

 

„But still, I should have restrained myself. You are still not fully recovered and I should not have been so rough.“

 

„You think too much James. I’m still here. I’m still alive. You were not too rough. In fact it was everything I needed.“

 

For the first time in a long while he could see a smile forming on Silver’s lips. He had almost forgotten how much he missed the sight. It had been an eternity since he saw any trace of happiness in Silver’s face. 

 

Then Silver leaned up and captured his lips again in a kiss. He happily indulged him until a pained gasp made them break apart. As much as he enjoyed it to be close to Silver he should really get the doctor. Essentially that should have been his first action but he could not blame his mind for being absent. Sighing he pulled away from Silver and tried to get up when he felt a hand enclosing his wrist and two very much panicked eyes looking at him.

 

„Don’t… please… don’t leave.“

 

„I’ll be right back. I just need to inform Howell that you are awake. He needs to check on your leg. If we get this over soon I can make sure we won’t be bothered for the rest of the night.“

 

This seemed to convince Silver and he let go of his wrist. He would have rather stayed as well, but he knew Howell should check up on him. After all the doctors visit was long overdue. Quickly he left his cabin and called out for the doctor. 

 

Howell was mildly surprised to see Silver awake but he could see the relief on his face. He had a feeling the doctor had doubted his quartermaster would recover this time. 

 

With careful eyes he watched as Howell inspected the leg, nearly flinching every time Silver let out a pained moan. He longed to go and comfort him. But he knew he couldn’t. Not in front of Howell. Not if they had not even talk about what they were becoming. No. It was not the time. Not yet.

 

„What are you doing?“ His voice was perhaps harsher than it should have been, but he couldn’t help the surge of protectiveness he suddenly felt.

 

„The wound needs to be cleaned. Regularly. It mustn’t get infected again. Under no circumstances. Mr. Silver was lucky enough to survive again this time. But I doubt he would have any good chances should this happen again. Not after his body went through two amputations in such a short period.“

 

„I can do it.“

 

„Captain?“ Both Howell and Silver looked at him in confusion.

 

„I know how to wash a wound. You can leave us now doctor.“

 

„Very well. I will leave you also something for the pain. I advise Mr. Silver takes it until the wound has fully closed. And get some rest. Both of you.“

 

As soon as the doctor left the room he made his way back to the bed and sat down on the edge.

 

„You don’t have to do this.“ Silver spoke in a quiet voice.

 

„You’re right. I don’t have to do it. But I want to.“

 

„Why? How can you stand to look at it. It’s disgusting. I’m…“

 

„Don’t you dare to finish this sentence! How can you think so low of yourself after everything that you accomplished?“ He interrupted Silver fiercely, still in shock at how he could think so low of himself.

 

„Because I’m nothing more but the one legged creature on this ship. Why would anyone give a fuck. Why would anyone want to look at me and feel desire.“

 

„I want you.“

 

„Then why couldn’t you even stand to touch me properly? Why did you break away so quickly? You don’t have to pretend you desire me out of pity. I don’t need anyone’s pity.“ 

 

He could hear the insecurity in Silver’s voice, see the disgust he held for his own body and what scared him most was that he truly seemed to believe he was not desirable because of his missing leg. It broke his heart to see him like that and for the first time he felt like he had some kind of understanding how much Silver had suffered in all those months without showing anyone.

 

„Do you really think I would desire anyone just out of pity? Have you seen me want anyone else before? Have you seen me fuck someone just because I pitied them? I did not desire anyone since Th… it doesn’t matter. But trust me John, there are a number of reasons why I want you and none of them is pity.“

 

„You mean it?“ Silver’s voice was low and he looked at him, disbelieve clearly written in his eyes.

 

„I do. I want you very much. All of you. But not now. Not while you’re still healing. Now you will let me clean your leg. And I will tend to it every day. I will make sure you don’t risk your life unnecessarily again by letting the infection lay claim on you for a second time. And when you have fully recovered, then I plan to show you how much I desire you.“ he spoke in a low voice, making sure Silver could very much see the desire he had for him in his eyes.

 

Putting Silver’s injured leg in his lap he pulled the bucket of water Howell had left behind closer and took the wet rag out of it. Carefully he brought it to the stump of Silver’s leg, removed the residue blood and whatever dirt there was still left. He could hear Silver hiss in pain as he touched the injury for the first time. The wound was still fresh and probably hurt a lot but there was no way he could neglect this. The stump had to be cleaned regularly. At least until the wound was fully closed and there was no chance left of it infecting again.

 

Working as quickly as he could but still trying to keep his touch as tenderly as possible he kept on cleaning the lesion. He simply could not bear it to inflict more pain on Silver. He was already experiencing enough of it. It was bad enough for him to hear the soft sounds of agony which Silver tried to hold back and to see the way his fingers were grabbing the sheets, knuckles nearly turned white from the hard grip.

 

„It will be better soon. The wound will close and the worst will be over.“ His words of reassurance could not reduce the pain, he knew that, but he hoped they would at least bring some small comfort.

 

„I know.“ Silver’s words were quiet and he could not meet his eyes.

 

Sighing he wrapped the stump in a clean bandage, making sure the cloth was not wrapped too tightly so it would not cause any additional ache before he placed Silver’s leg slowly back on the bed, stood up and went to put the bucket with the now dirtied water away.

 

„James?“ He could hear Silver calling out for him.

 

„Yes?“

 

„What did Howell mean earlier?“

 

„Beg your pardon?“

 

„About how we should both get some rest.“

 

He stiffened. Damn that doctor and his observance. He did manage it to hide his sleeplessnessand nightmares from the crew. Those men barely noticed anything. Silver usually did, but not with the infection clouding his brain and he had actually planned to keep this secret. Not that it mattered anymore since Howell exposed him and he could see the worry in Silver’s face.

 

„James? Would you… maybe… could you… hold me?“ Silver’s voice was so soft it was barely audible and for a moment he thought he imagined hearing it.

 

He gazed at Silver lying in his bed all curled up. Somehow he managed it to look even smaller than he was and perhaps even somewhat fragile. He would not meet his eyes and was trembling slightly. Maybe he’d thought he overstepped his boundaries in asking that question. 

 

„Of course I can.“

 

With a soft smile on his lips he made his way back towards the bed and shed his boots while Silver was looking at him in a mixture of disbelief and happiness. He assumed that maybe he thought all of it was a fever dream or that some part of Silver did not fully believe yet that this was reality. But as he slowly came to realize he would not mind making Silver believe it it every day.

 

Carefully he laid down next to Silver. His bed was definitely not made for two grown men sharing it. At worst times it could be even uncomfortable to lie alone in it. But it didn’t matter. Not in this moment. He pulled Silver to his chest wrapping his arms tightly around the shivering body. The solid weight against him felt more natural than he’d expected it to be and he had to confess to himself that he liked this feeling. It was calming, even grounding him perhaps.

 

It has been far too long since he shared the bed with another man. Not since Thomas. There was only Thomas. No one else. It was odd he did not feel the guilt he usually felt simply at the thought of laying with another man but it was different with Silver. Everything was different since Silver had come into his life. It did not feel like a betrayal to Thomas’ memory. Instead holding Silver in his arms, feeling his soft breaths against the skin of his neck and the movement of his chest against his own felt oddly natural and helped him to realize that this was real and that he did not lose Silver to the horrible infection that had him in its claws just days ago.

 

„Thank you.“

 

Silver’s voice penetrated the quietness of the cabin where the only sound was their breathing. He pressed a soft kiss on top of his head and tightened his hold on him.

 

„Get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.“ He mumbled into Silver’s curls and closed his eyes. It had been too long since he’d properly slept and his body demanded the rest. And for the first time in months he was glad to give in.

 

 

 

When he awoke some time later it was still dark inside the cabin and for a moment he questioned himself why he had awoken when it was not even dawn yet and he could rest for some more hours. Especially since there were no hallucinations or nightmares which were tormenting him. He discovered the reason for his wakeful state fairly soon as Silver’s body was twisting in his arms and he was whimpering softly. He could not make out any of the words he was saying but he could hear his own name and the distress in Silver’s voice with every mumbled word that left his mouth.

 

„John? Wake up.“ He spoke quietly, didn’t want to distress Silver further while he softly started stroking over his back with hopefully enough force to wake him.

 

It took some minutes and he wondered whether he should have been louder when Silver awoke with a gasp, his whole body shaking.

 

„It’s alright John. I’m here.“

 

„James?“ his voice sounded as if Silver could still not believe he was real so he tightened his arms around him pulling him even tighter to his chest.

 

He could feel Silver burying his head in the crook of his neck, the way one of his hands clutched at his shirt afraid to lose the contact, possibly even afraid that he would vanish if he let go. Slowly he moved one of his hands that were previously resting on Silver’s back to his hair and began stroking through it. The gesture had already calmed him when he was in fever. He hoped it would help while he was awake, too.

 

Slowly Silver’s erratic breathing seemed to be calming down. His hand stopped clutching his shirt and was instead just resting on his chest.

 

„Are you alright?“ 

 

His voice was soft. He did not want to startle Silver. Not when he finally seemed restful again.

 

„It was just a dream.“ He replied, his voice still shaking

 

„Was it the same dream you had while you were feverish?“

 

„How do you know?“ There was surprise in Silver’s voice.

 

„Do you remember them? Your dreams when you were in fever?“

 

„Only bits and pieces. They were all so very confusing. But it is still too much.“

 

„You called out for me. Several times. Told me to come back. Was I leaving you?“

 

„No… not like that.“ Silver was clearly trying to avoid his question. Whatever had haunted him in his dreams, he was certain it must have been horrifying.

 

„What do you mean?“

 

„When the storm hit us… I was below deck. With Muldoon. We were trying to stuff the leaks in the hull. But there was too much water. The ship was rocking. And my leg… I could barely move. Then a canon got loose and Muldoon got trapped. I.. I tried to help him… tried to move the canon. But I was too weak. Maybe it was already the infection. I don’t know. Then I cried for help but no one heard me. The water rose… there was nothing I could do…“

 

„Oh John…“ he pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. He had not yet heard about Muldoon’s death. He only knew a lot of men died during the storm. And that Billy and DeGroot were taking care of it. They were probably going to inform him of all the deaths after Silver was awake again. At least he assumed that.

 

„When I dreamed… it was not him… it was you I failed to save…“ Silver whispered in a pain laced voice.

 

He could feel the shuddering breath Silver let out against the soft skin of his neck following his confession chocking back the tears that were desperately threatening to fall from his eyes.

 

„It’s alright. I’m here. I’m still alive.“ He buried his face in Silver’s hair, nuzzling the long strands and tightened his hold around him, intending to let Silver feel that he was still laying next to him in the bed.

 

„I know. It just… it felt so real.“

 

„That is the nature of nightmares I fear. They search for what is most disturbing to us and torture us with the images until there is no way to tell what is real and what not.“

 

„I’m sorry…“ Silver mumbled quietly. 

 

„What for?“ He had absolutely no idea what Silver could want to apologize for.

 

„For killing Muldoon.“

 

„What the fuck are you taking about? You did not kill him.“ He exclaimed probably louder than he should have.

 

„But if it wasn’t for me being so clumsy he would not have gotten trapped. If it was not for me being too weak to save him he would be still alive.“

 

„John you were burning up with fever and infection. You should not blame yourself for it. It was an accident. Many men died during that storm. It is a risk every one of them is very well aware of. Every time we set sail there is a chance one might not come back from this journey. The men have accepted it. They know the risks. What happened down there is not your fault. If anyone is at fault it should be me for setting the course into the storm.“

 

„But there was no other way. If you did not take that risk we would be all dead. You are not to blame.“

 

„And so aren’t you. We cannot change what happened. I made the choice of not taking the pardons and risking the crew. You chose to ignore your festering wound. Maybe we’ve done both wrong in our decisions but it does not matter anymore.“ He tried to get Silver to see reason, to realize that he was not at fault for what happened inside the ship that night.

 

„I think you made the right choice.“ 

 

„Beg your pardon?“

 

„Not taking the pardons. I cannot imagine England to be that generous. I’m certain that they have a plan. And I’m very certain not every pirate is meant to survive it. But I assume your reasons for hating them are far more personal.“

 

„I will never bow to England.“

 

„I know. So won’t I. Otherwise I would not have let you convince the crew to sail into the storm.Don’t underestimate my power over those men. Whatever your reason for hating England might be you can be certain to have my support, and thus also the crews support in kicking them out of Nassau.“

 

As soon as Silver finished speaking he pulled him up and captured his lips in a hard kiss. Thomas was right. Everyone needed a partner. And for the first time in a decade he had a real partner again who supported him and would be by his side in this fight.

 

When they broke apart they were both breathing heavily and Silver was looking stunned at him, his eyes wide open with surprise. A soft smile graced his lips as he was pulling him back into his arms.

 

„You know it’s been a while…“ Silver remarked.

 

„Since what?“

 

„Since I last saw you smile.“ Silvers voice was quiet, „I missed it.“ he added his voice barely audible.

 

„I suppose there were not many reasons to smile in the past few months.“

 

„You’re right. I’m sorry. I should not have brought those memories back.“

 

„Don’t be. It was rather the happenings of the last months reminding me of those memories. Not your comment.“, he reassured him, „Do you think you could sleep again?“

 

„I don’t think so. The memories of the dream are still too present in my head. But James… could you… could you maybe read to me again?“

 

„You heard me when I was reading?“ The surprise in his voice was obvious to hear. He would have never thought Silver actually heard him.

 

„Not always, but I was not sleeping. Not all the time I suppose. Most of the time it felt more like floating, maybe more like drowning in the sea. It was deep, it was dark, it was scary. But sometimes I could hear your voice. It was muted, even distorted but it brought a calmness that helped me in my struggle to the surface“

 

„Of course I will.“ He smiled and with one hand he picked up the book and opened the page where he had last stopped reading. 

 

His voice was soft as he read and he could feel Silver relaxing in his arms. Again he brought his free hand up to his hair and caressed the soft hair under his fingers. Silver let out a low moan at his ministrations and leaned into the touch which brought another smile to his lips. He had indeed found a weak spot in his quartermaster and he already longed to explore it as soon as his leg was fully healed.

 

 

 

„James?“ Silver spoke a while later after he stopped reading, his fingers drawing idle lines on his chest.

 

„Hm?“

 

„It was me“ Silver’s confession was quiet and hard to hear. Yet it hung in the quietness of the room.

 

„What?“

 

„It was me. I stole it from you. The Urca gold. I sold the location out to Rackham’s crew. I betrayed you. I’m sorry.“

 

He had suspected Silver’s involvement in the whole scheme already when he told him about the men who had supposedly sold the location. But what he would have never guessed was Silver actually confessing his part in the play to him.

 

„You’re not surprised?“ 

 

„No I’m not. But I’m curious. What did you do with it?“

 

„What do you mean what did I do with it?“

 

„Your share of the gold. I assume it was a big one“

 

„I left it behind. I couldn’t take the gold and remain with this crew… and by your side. Had I taken my share I would be alone. There would be no way for me to stay on the ship. And without the crew I’m nothing but a cripple.“ he averted his gaze in shame.

 

„You orchestrated that whole plan behind my back?“ He couldn’t help but sound impressed.

 

„I did. I regret selling the gold. I regretted it the moment I stepped back onto the ship and we were on our way to Charlestown. Maybe that regret cost me my leg in the end. But yes the plan was all mine. I was angry. I reacted irrationally.“

 

„You know I already had my thoughts that you were involved in it but I never would have guessed you to orchestrate everything.“

 

„I’m not as weak as you think I am.“

 

„Oh I do not think you’re weak. Quite the contrary to be honest. But tell me John… why do you confess this to me now?“  


„Because I don’t want to start this… whatever we are becoming right now, with a lie.“ 

 

„A few months ago I might have killed you for that information“

 

„I know. That is the reason why I couldn’t confess my part in it when I initially told you about the gold. Not that it matters now anymore since we made that agreement about the gold with Vane and Rackham.“

 

„No it doesn’t. You made a decision and it brought us to the point where we are now. No one will ever know what would have happened if you didn’t sell the gold. Perhaps I would not have been the Captain anymore. Hornigold definitely had the favors if the gold had been still there. In the endyour whole betrayal still worked in our favours. But I appreciate you telling me of your involvement. You are right. There should be no lies between us from now on. And from the looks of it I should let you plan more operations in the future since you seem quite skilled at orchestrating such big plans.“

 

He could feel Silver exhale shakily against his neck. He knew how hard it must have been to confess his part in everything and it made him appreciate it even more. They both had made their fair shares of mistakes in the past. There was no sense in holding a grudge. He was far from a saint himself and definitely no hypocrite. Yet it made him incredibly happy that Silver showed such trust in him to share this secret. It opened a door into another future. A future he would have never expected.

 

Tightening his arms around Silver he buried his face in his hair for a second, gathering the courage to speak up about a part of himself that he had kept hidden for a long time.

 

„I never told you how I came to know Miranda. Why we were so close and yet never lovers in the true sense of the word. And why I thought it would be reasonable to talk to Peter Ashe.“

 

„James… you don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.“

 

„I think I want to. I don’t want to keep this secret any longer. No lies between us, remember?“

 

„You trust me enough to share your past with me?“, Silver’s voice was astonished. 

 

„I do.“ he spoke as he pressed a soft kiss to Silver’s forehead.

 

And he told him everything. About how he was in the Navy as a young man. And how he met Thomas Hamilton and his wife when he was trusted with the task of bringing Nassau back to English rule. How he had an affair with both of them that was so much more and yet would be never enough. How he envisioned those pardons together with Thomas. And how they had the help of their good friend Peter Ashe. Or so they thought. And how they got betrayed. By Ashe, byThomas’ father and by the admiralty. How Thomas ended up in an asylum where he later died alone and how he fled with Miranda to the New World because it was the only way to save their lives. The only way to disappear entirely and how Captain Flint was born out of that anger and pain of having lost everything he loved.

 

Of all things he expected to feel after this confession relief was the last thing on his mind. Finally he did not have to carry the burden of his secret past alone anymore. Before Silver there were only Miranda and Gates who knew of his past life. With both of them dead his secrets had remained his alone.

 

„What was your name? Before you became Captain Flint?“

 

„James. James McGraw.“

 

It felt weird to unveil his real name to Silver. It has been more than a decade since he last introduced himself to another person using this name. He was so used of being Flint. He thought James McGraw was long dead. But perhaps he had been wrong all along and there was much more of his past self left than he had assumed.

 

„Thank you for telling me this James. I can only imagine how heavy the burden of those memories must have been on you.“

 

„I think I finally realized that keeping this secret to myself any longer without having someone who understood me would have destroyed me and if I want you by my side for this fight against England you need to know my reasons for this hatred that I have for them. I want you to know who we are fighting against because both of us will need this understanding to keep the crew convinced to fight this war with us.“

 

„I will be by your side. I have no intention of going anywhere. Trust me. We are partners in this.“

 

„Yes. That we are.“

 

„Kiss me James.“ the request brought a smile to his lips but he happily obliged and soon they both lost themselves completely in the kisses they shared.

 

  

Later when Silver had fallen asleep, getting his well needed rest he was amazed at how much could change in just a few hours. People could die. People could live. He nearly lost Silver but it appeared as if he had gotten a second chance. After all that he had lost in the past decade he finally got something he thought long vanished back. And this time he intended not to let it go.

 

He loved Thomas. He loved Miranda. Even though it was a fairly different love than the one he shared with her husband. He did not know if he could ever love Silver as much as he loved both of them. Not yet. But he cared for him. Deeply. And in that moment it was enough.

 

 

Thomas and Miranda were back. This time they wore clean clothes. There were no signs of death on them. It was like the last time he saw them together. Before everything went to hell. Miranda wore a beautiful dress. There was no blood dripping from her forehead. Thomas too, was dressed in a fine suit. He looked healthy. They both looked at him. Then at the sleeping figure in his arms. 

 

And they smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this. 
> 
> After all the pain and angst this season has brought us I just had to give them a hopeful ending. (Fun Fact: the ending was one of the first things I wrote for this story because in my personal headcanon I think Thomas and Miranda would be truly happy if Flint found some kind of happiness again and Flint would need that kind of closure to his past, though I fear the show will never give us that.) 
> 
> I did not plan all the fluff but I guess we all appreciate some hope and sweetness after that season finale. It's been a long and exhausting ride to write all of this and I hope you all enjoy my interpretation of Flint and Silver. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for: amputation, minor character deaths and a lot of self worth issues. The characters are mentally in a very dark place and there is a lot of physical and psychical hurt. 
> 
> Next chapter will get into Flints head. Expect way more angstyness but also finally some hurt/comfort. Also a lot more of emotional constipation because it's Flint we're talking about.


End file.
